


Weeknights At Natalie's

by citiesandlights



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Basically Louis' an alcoholic who'd never really been satisfied with his life, M/M, Multi, Trigger Warning: Use of Marijuana, Trigger warning: Alcoholism, and Harry's the new bartender at his favorite bar, and he learns about the life he's denied himself all along, but can still have
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 02:00:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9635918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citiesandlights/pseuds/citiesandlights
Summary: Louis Tomlinson's life is one messed up joke. Mistake after mistake after mistake has worn him down, brought him to his knees. His wife is perpetually unhappy, his kids don't like him, his friends were moving on to new, less broken people. And then Harry Styles enters his life via the only thing that continues to give him comfort and he thinks maybe, just maybe, there's a chance for him after all.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea that I actually came up with a couple years ago when I first heard the song 'Call Me In The Afternoon' by Half Moon Run. This first chapter is from back then and is a little bit short because of that. Originally this was posted on Wattpad (no idea why), so no worries if you see it on there. I really don't have any strict plans on how long this will be or where it will go, but if I figure it out I'll let you know. I hope you enjoy! Comments and critiques are always welcome.
> 
> // Casie //

Louis sighed as he shrugged out of his coat, eyes trailing around the dimly lit bar. The usual people were there; Joseph cradling a vodka, Mark with his beer, Caleb nursing a pint of ale. Louis' body ached for the oblivion his scotch brought, eager to join the other men in their glazed-eyed numbness. That's why he liked this place so much. This wasn't a social bar, this was a misery bar.

He took his seat, the empty one next to Mark, and adjusted the glasses resting on his nose. His hand mindlessly rubbed at the graying stubble covering his cheeks as he looked down the counter for the bartender. He never actually learned the old chap's name, but there was a comfort in just some sort of regular serenity in him knowing Louis' drink, a shared smile, and then continued silence, piano playing in the background. It was a nightly process that Louis looked forward to before forcing himself back home to deal with screaming kids (whom he loved dearly, but they were loud and headache inducing) and a glaring wife.

He couldn't quite put his finger on when things went wrong with Eleanor. Maybe he first noticed about two years ago when she asked for another baby and he hesitated. The hesitation was long enough that it didn't happen for another year after she asked. He hadn't wanted another child, they had three darling children already and that was more than enough to keep their hands full. She won out in the end, and they had their first daughter together just a few months prior. He was getting older, at forty he hadn't exactly been looking forward to another baby. But Eleanor was younger, only thirty-five, and still full of life and the will to be a mother. He loved Addy, he did, but her nonstop wailing only made him yearn more for the quiet comfort of the bar. Natalie's Place had become his escape.

He ran his fingers through his hair and furrowed his eyebrows when the bartender failed to appear. He was always there. He glanced at the other men, Caleb shrugging and thrusting a thumb silently in the direction of the mostly empty tables to one side of the large room. A young man dressed in the usual black dressy uniform normal for Natalie's Place was hunched over a bucket, cleaning up what appeared to be a large pile of throw up one of the clients had apparently left on the floor before stumbling out drunk to go Lord knows where.

He sighed and rubbed his thrumming forehead, his free fingers drumming impatiently against the counter. He didn't like the change in employee, his bartender was the one who knew him and gave him what he needed without a single word said. This new guy wasn't looking too good for his nightly silence.

He waited a few moments longer before clearing his throat somewhat loudly, earning a glare from Mark (one which he ignored, the bastard already had his drink). The man shot up and turned around, his long body straightening itself out as he made his way back to his station at the bar. "So sorry," he mumbled, his voice low. "There was a bit of an accident and it's my first night..." He trailed off at the annoyed look Louis was giving him and tucked a loose curl behind his ear, a lock that had fallen from the bun piled at the back of his head. "I'm Harry, Peter had a heart attack and decided to retire so I'll be the one here from now on. Can I get you something?"

Louis took a long moment to examine his new bartender. He decided right away that he talked much too much for his liking, but he seemed like an okay enough guy. He was tall, very tall, especially compared to Louis who wasn't short, but a bit on the shorter side. Eleanor was a little less than an inch taller than him. Green eyes, dimples, curly brown hair. Just throwing a ballpark number, Louis guessed him to be in his mid to late twenties. He still had a vigor and life in his eyes only the young do, something he'd lost quite a while ago. He noted Harry's large hands fumbling anxiously with a rag, thick rings dimly reflecting the light on the ceiling up above. He was nervous.

"My usual is a scotch on the rocks, usually have two to three per night. I have a tab under Louis Tomlinson," he finally said when he noticed Harry starting to get nervous. The young man nodded his head quickly and got right to work getting Louis his drink and soon the cold, smooth crystal glass was in his hand. He shut his eyes as the burning alcohol slid down his throat, warming him up and easing the stress that seemed to be always present in his mind. His tongue darted out over his thin, chapped lips, making sure he got every drop he could inside of him. He'd down the whole glass in one go. He nudged it towards Harry and raised an eyebrow, expectant. And they continued like that for the rest of the evening; Louis finishing off a glass and Harry pouring him a new one. By the time Louis was done it was eight and he was unsteady on his feet but blessedly at peace. Yeah, he could go home like that. Just slip under his cool sheets and settle his aching body down, head cushioned in the pillow. Maybe the baby would even be quiet, the kids wouldn't fight, Eleanor would let him be. It was a long shot, but the thought was nice.

He was so happy he even managed to give the new bartender a lazy smile. "Thank you, Henry," he mumbled, shrugging his long black coat over his almost too thin shoulders, loosening his tie a little. "Lovely meetin' you. I'll be seeing you tomorrow." He waved as he exited the door and out into the freezing December rain, pulling the collar of his coat up so he could break the wind a little more. Oh what he would give to live somewhere warm, maybe even tropical. He shot one last glance back at the deteriorating building he was leaving behind, a little surprised to see that new kid watching after him with an odd expression on his face. He didn't let it bother him and just turned to continue walking, eventually waving down a taxi to take him back home, the term very loosely applicable to his current living conditions.

...

By the time Louis got home, it was much later than what he'd anticipated; there'd been a crash that he'd had to sit in traffic for quite a while. He sobered up just a little in that time, but he knew he still smelled heavily of alcohol by the disgusted look on his wife's face.

"Where the hell have you been?" she asked in a quiet hiss like she did every night, her eyes narrowed in hurt and frustration. Louis just silently shrugged off his coat and slid his scarf from around his neck, hanging them up on the rack by the door. "You promised me that you'd be home for dinner tonight, Andrew had brought home a drawing he'd made for you in school. How am I supposed to explain to him that you don't eat with us because you don't like being around us?"

Louis just continued to ignore her as Addy began wailing upstairs in the nursery and in the living room the boys were yelling at each other over who got to pick the movie that night. Just another night in paradise. He trailed upstairs and into the purple room to scoop up the tiny creature in his arms, smiling down at her as Eleanor continued to berate him from the doorway. "You have so many chances ahead of you," he whispered to his daughter, making his way over to the window. "There's no reason for you to be crying, love. Your daddy's just going through a difficult time right now. But I love you, now let's see that pretty smile you have." He made a silly, cross-eyed face that he'd made to get every single one of his children to laugh as little ones, and lo and behold, it worked. Addy's chubby face smoothed out into a smile and he took that opportunity to wipe away the tear stains on her plump, flushed cheeks. "There's my lovely girl. Now I need you to sleep tight for me, alright? Daddy needs his rest for work tomorrow." He kissed her forehead and settled her back into her crib, turning on the mobile above her, soothing music playing as the shapes spun around and around slowly.

Eleanor had quieted down to watch the scene before her and the anger had dulled over so she just looked exhausted lonely. Louis shut the door behind him and gave her a smile with similar feelings reflected in his own expression. "Never say I don't want to be with my family," he told her, sidestepping her to get down the narrow stairway to the kitchen for some water and aspirin.

The boys had settled on watching the Avengers, and Louis watched them from behind as he sipped from his glass. Andrew was their oldest at ten years old, quite the little artist he was. He excelled in art classes and their house was filled with the pieces he'd proudly made for them. Then came George, seven, who was going through a phase where he loved everything that had to do with airplanes. And finally, the baby until Addy came along, Noah. Noah was only five years old and the happiest little kid Louis had ever encountered. He always had a delighted smile ready for anybody and loved meeting new people. He loved his boys, he truly, truly did. It wasn't them that made him want to stay away. It was the feeling of displacement. He worked long hours and yes, he was an engineer and made excellent money, but he didn't have the most relaxing career in the world and his dwindling, dying romance with his wife made things tense enough without stress from work and all the noise piling on top of him, pushing him down and down and down until alcohol was the only peace he had in his day. Two years he'd been drinking every night. Two years. He knew he had an issue, some nights were worse than others, but he had no other options at that point. He had responsibilities and his only way out was Natalie's.

He finished his drink off and then shuffled upstairs for a long, hot shower. He crawled into the guest bed like he usually did, expecting another night alone in bed. He was a little surprised about an hour later when he felt Eleanor's thin arms slink around his slender, bare waist, but he was too exhausted to do anything more than rest his hand over hers in acknowledgment of her presence. Blackness once again pervaded his mind and a blissfully dreamless sleep swept him away from his crumbling life.


End file.
